


sweet talk

by wildflower (venusbot)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, First Dates, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Tutoring, animals as a love language, renjun as jisung's internal monologue, sorry for writing hp au in 2020 but in my defense im trans and do what i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusbot/pseuds/wildflower
Summary: It was a beautiful sight, a hippogriff bowing. Something about a creature as high-and-mighty as itself brought to its knees by mere respect for another—if Jisung was a poet, he could probably have written pages on that scene alone.But Jisung wasn’t a poet. Jisung was a loser, and all he could do was focus on how Jeno’s eyes crinkled happily into themselves, and how his smile was worth a hundred times more than some hippogriff’s admiration, and how he’d do anything to see the older boy as happy as that for every single day of his life.In which Jisung is terrible with animals, Jeno is more than willing to help, and fate has a funny little way of making things happen.
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Park Jisung
Comments: 12
Kudos: 118





	sweet talk

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was started and finished completely out of spite. most of the dialogue came to me in visions at 1:00 am while listening to the monster high soundtrack on repeat. please don't take anything seriously

“I have a problem,” Jisung announced, slamming his hands down onto the table to get everyone’s attention—which, he realised immediately after doing so, was an extremely bad decision since it was made out of very, very hard wood and his hands were made out of very, very soft flesh.

Either way, his plan worked. Jaemin looked up from where he was skimming through his textbook to raise an eyebrow at him. “Just one?” 

Jisung scowled at him, but he had a feeling that it came out as more of a pout. Luckily, he was saved from further embarrassment by unlikely way of one Huang Renjun, who had once again managed to worm his way into the Slytherin common room against all odds. 

“Don’t be such a bitch, Na,” he chided, flicking Jaemin on the forehead. “Let him speak.” 

“ _Thank_ you,” said Jisung, smiling gratefully at Renjun. He was rewarded with a forehead flick of his own, but like, gentler. Renjun was a little weird. “Back to my problem.” 

“Maybe _you’re_ the problem,” Jaemin suggested. Jisung ignored him, as he did most things that came out of Jaemin's mouth.

He took a deep breath, and then said, "Lee Jeno." 

That didn't earn him any visible reaction from either of the two: Renjun just gave him a quizzical glance, while Jaemin kept staring at him with his tired mom face. 

"Lee Jeno," he tried again. "Feelings. How do I—" he cut himself off, relying on making vague hand gestures to get his point across instead. It worked.

Their table was quiet for a few moments—quite possibly the longest moments of Jisung's life and _no_ , he was _not_ being dramatic—before erupting into a barrage of various noises that could probably be classified as screams: courtesy of Jaemin, of course. Renjun, on the other hand, looked like he was trying to stifle laughter. 

Honestly, even though their reaction may have been a bit over the top, Jisung couldn't exactly blame them for it. Jeno was the Hufflepuff prefect, known throughout the school not only for his house's trademark kindness, but also his scarily good Quidditch skills, and not to mention his unfairly handsome looks, and—maybe he was letting his bias show, but how else was he supposed to describe _Jeno?_

Jaemin's incessant crowing snapped him out of what would've soon devolved into an internal gay crisis session. "How the hell is this the first I'm hearing of this?! Tell me _everything!"_

Jisung sighed, reaching up to scratch a spot behind his ear. He could already feel himself pinkening in the way that he did almost immediately after talking about his feelings in any shape or form. 

"There isn't anything to tell," he confessed, because there honestly _wasn't._ "Just happened." 

Jaemin scoffed. "That is the gayest thing I've ever heard." 

Jisung frowned, ready to get into a debate with Jaemin about who exactly had the gayest tendencies between the two of them, but Renjun interrupted before things could get any more heated. 

"So, do you know how you're going to tell him yet?"

"Tell him?! Who said anything about telling him?" Jisung squawked, voice cracking a little with surprise (and also with puberty, but he digressed). 

Renjun sighed, with all the weariness of a Ravenclaw stuck between a bunch of dimwit goal-oriented Slytherins. "That's generally what one does when they have a crush, Jisung," 

Jisung could only groan in response, holding his head in his hands as he rested against the table that had rudely hurt his palms minutes ago. "This is why I came to you guys! I don't know what to do about any of this stuff!" 

"You should antagonise him," said Jaemin, helpfully. He spoke the words with a confidence that seemed to stem from his own experiences, and Jisung had enough faith in Jaemin's wooing abilities to trust that his methods were probably effective. "Nothing like a little tension to really get the romance going."

Jisung cocked his head to the side, considering this. It wasn't a bad idea. Years of acting as Jaemin's bitch protege would probably come in handy here, and he could easily—

" _No,"_ came the horrified voice of Renjun, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "No, no, no, absolutely _not_ , what the _fuck_ is wrong with you Slytherins?" 

"Many things," Jaemin replied, matter-of-factly. Jisung was inclined to agree with him. 

Renjun just shook his head in disgust again, speaking directly to Jisung this time. "Look, just—just be nice to him, alright? Compliment him. Give him a gift. Hufflepuffs love that shit."

"Don't you think you're over-generalising houses?" asked Jaemin, because he was incapable of not having an opinion about everything for one minute. 

"I'll over-generalise your _ass_ ," Renjun shot back without missing a beat, and the resulting grin that Jaemin gave him felt a little too hungry to be considered strictly joking. Jisung decided to erase that expression from his brain and never think of it ever again. 

"Anyway," Renjun continued, clearing his throat. "You don't have to do anything right away if you don't want to. Take your time," he added, voice getting gentler with every word. 

Jisung only hummed in response, mind already buzzing with possible "compliments" he could give Jeno. _Your hair looks nice_ . Nah, too basic. _You have a nice smile._ He'd probably be coming on too strong. _Your muscles are really nice_ —okay, he needed to end this train of thought now before it got any weirder. (Also, what was with him and the word "nice"?) 

His friends were still woefully unaware of his internal struggles, though, because the two of them continued chatting among themselves, speculating how exactly this crush had spawned like the gossip mongrels they were. 

Jisung rolled his eyes. Like he'd said, it had just _happened._

* * *

**(Two months ago)**

Care of Magical Creatures was not Jisung's best subject. 

It wasn't one of his worst subjects, either. Instead it simply _was_ ; an elective that he'd taken without much thought that was now teaching him the true meaning of the word pain. The last class they’d had had been a particularly bad one—he wouldn’t go into too many details, but the main stars of the event were Jisung, some badly timed clumsiness, and several Blast-ended Skrewts. 

Professor Taeyong had taken him aside after that incident, speaking in hushed tones so as not to draw attention from the rest of the class. Jisung couldn’t really do much except listen and hang his head low in what he hoped would pass for shame. 

“Jisung,” said the professor carefully, after he’d finished explaining to him the reasons why his actions had resulted in—whatever that was. “I think we should get you a tutor.”

“Professor—” he started, protesting the decision already, but was cut off by a quelling look from his teacher. Oh, right; for whatever reason, Taeyong preferred that his students call him by name only. It was only one of the many eccentric things about him, but Jisung supposed it came with the job. 

“Taeyong,” he corrected. “Being the only person in class with a tutor is gonna be _so_ embarrassing! And will getting one this late into the year even make a difference?” 

“The point is to help you avoid more incidents like these,” Taeyong replied firmly. “I would offer to give you extra lessons myself, but I’m really busy right now, with Christmas coming up and all. Don’t worry, though, I have the perfect person for you.”

And that was exactly what Jisung was so afraid of. That he’d be paired up with some sort of magical creatures genius that would no doubt see how hopeless he was with animals and think that he was some form of village idiot for messing up so frequently and— 

“You’re really overthinking this,” Renjun noted, when Jisung finally told him and Jaemin about it over dinner. Once again, Renjun was _supposed_ to be sitting with the rest of the Ravenclaws, but he’d mooched into the Slytherin table and no one was saying anything at all. Seriously, how did he do it? 

Jisung scowled. “It could happen!” 

Renjun rolled his eyes, stabbing a potato on his plate with a fork. “Of course it _could_ , but it doesn’t mean that it _will_.” 

“I hate Ravenclaws,” Jisung muttered darkly, only to get the potato thrown at him in retaliation for that comment. What a waste of a perfectly good potato. 

“Besides,” Renjun continued, continuing to stab more potatoes—was he okay?—as he spoke. “You don’t need to get everyone to love you, you know?” 

Jisung spluttered immediately, at a loss for words but still feeling the strong urge to protest against whatever the hell Renjun was going on about. It wasn’t that he needed everyone to love him, okay! It was just weird not being constantly adored by everyone around him, and maybe he liked it when the others doted on him, and _fine,_ so _what_ if he enjoyed—alright, maybe he did need everyone to love him. 

Still cross, he turned to Jaemin for support, finally noticing how strangely quiet the other had been throughout their entire conversation: only to notice him staring off into the distance. Jisung squinted, following his line of vision to the… Gryffindor table? 

Renjun seemed to have noticed this too, and the realisation did nothing for his already stabby mood—if anything, it seemed to make him stabbier. Jisung winced as the potatoes continued to get more and more mutilated with every second that passed, and decided that his friends had far more pressing issues to deal with than his own little tutor problem right then. 

_The tutor problem is not very little_ , was the first coherent thought that Jisung had when he finally showed up to the library the next day, fifteen minutes late and a little out of breath. 

He didn’t know why they were meeting up at the _library_ of all places—Care of Magical Creatures was a mostly practical subject—but it felt like a personal attack to him, someone who barely went to the library at all and continued to get lost in Hogwarts despite six years having already passed. Navigating the staircases had taken more time than expected, and he was going to make a bad first impression on whoever he was supposed to meet, and oh god they probably already hated him, and he needed to end this train of thought _now_. 

Jisung skidded to a stop in front of the library’s doors, taking a deep breath before walking in like everything was normal and he was fine and most definitely not over-thinking. He caught Doyoung—the librarian—giving him a dirty look over the top of his glasses and sped up his pace just a little. 

Taeyong hadn’t told him who his tutor was; just that he’d meet them in the library at an assigned time. (Why were all of his professors so cryptic?) Unfortunately for Jisung, the library was _huge,_ and trying to figure out where exactly his tutor was hiding was not going to prove itself an easy task. Frowning, he tried peeking behind one of the bookshelves to see if there was a table there, when—

“Over here!” came a strangely familiar voice from behind him, and Jisung spun around fast enough to almost give himself whiplash. 

The ever-angelic face of Lee Jeno was smiling up at him from a table he hadn’t noticed, eyes crinkled up in a way that should have been considered hazardous to human health. Jisung hadn’t really had any interactions with him before, so he couldn’t really be blamed for momentarily short-circuiting. 

If Jeno noticed his speechlessness, he didn’t comment on it, instead just patting the seat next to him. Jisung blinked down at him for a few more moments before realising that _hey, that’s an invitation for me to sit, I should probably take it instead of standing here staring at him like a freak._

He sat down. He didn’t stop staring like a freak. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to be _normal_ for once, goddamnit, but Jeno seemed unfazed by it—just smiling his easy smile once again and sending Jisung’s heart into overdrive.

“I’m Jeno!” he said, as if Jisung didn’t already know who he was. (As if the whole _school_ didn’t know who he was.) “I think Taeyong already told you, but I’ll be helping you with your Care of Magical Creatures class.” 

Jeno looked at him expectantly, then, and Jisung tried to force his brain to think something other than “oh god oh shit oh fuck”. 

“Park Jisung,” he blurted out in lieu of a greeting, and then immediately regretted it. “I mean, hi, nice to meet you, I’m Jisung. Park Jisung.” 

“I know,” said Jeno, laughing as he did, but there wasn’t any malice behind his words. The sight made Jisung ease up a little. “So, Park Jisung, what’s this I hear about Blast-ended Skrewts?” 

Jisung reddened almost immediately, flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to do anything! They’re just so big, and weird, and their eyes are all bugged out and—” he paused, taking a moment to shudder. “I panicked.” 

“They’re not _that_ weird,” Jeno said, sounding a little put out, and—was that a _pout?_

Dear god, Jisung was well and truly fucked. 

It didn’t take long for them to trickle into easy conversation, especially since Jeno was treating him like they were already friends. Jisung’s initial awkwardness melted away too, because it only took four sentences out of the other’s mouth for him to realise that the only intimidating thing about Lee Jeno was his smile. (And, really, that wasn’t even _intimidating_ ; intimidatingly cute, maybe, but—okay, he was getting off track.) 

After a few minutes into their heated discussion about the weirdness of Blast-ended Skrewts—mostly Jisung pointing out their hideous features and Jeno stubbornly insisting that he was just intolerant of “non-human beauty standards”—Jisung realised that he still hadn’t voiced the question that had been bothering him ever since he stepped into the library in the first place. 

“Why are we at the library?” he asked, once Jeno was finished with his mini-rant on how all animals were beautiful in their own unique ways. (Jisung found it cute that he got passionate over that, but Jisung was also a huge loser. So.) 

“Oh, right,” said Jeno, smiling _that_ smile again and effectively killing Jisung for half a moment. “I just wanted to get to know you! We won’t actually be doing any tutoring today.” 

At that, Jeno’s eyes went from crinkled to cocky and his smile turned into something resembling mischief—a sight that Jisung was more than familiar with, seeing as he came from a house of bastards. Swallowing, he asked, “So… what _is_ the actual tutoring?” 

“All in good time,” had been the only response he’d received, and Jisung decided that pretty boys were worth nothing. 

* * *

Flash forward two months, and Jisung found himself standing outside the Hippogriff stables, impatiently waiting for Jeno to get there and start their session for the day. 

They’d had countless such sessions by then, allowing Jisung to get used to Jeno’s unconventional teaching methods. During their first meeting—setting aside the one at the library, of course—Jeno had brought them straight to the Forbidden Forest late in the evening without any explaining beforehand, and Jisung had officially decided that he was a little insane. (Pros: he got to cling onto Jeno’s arms after putting on what he thought was a pretty convincing show of being scared. Cons: It wasn’t a show. He almost cried.) 

Despite Jeno’s insistence on bringing him into potentially life threatening situations, their relationship had improved, too. The two of them fell into a fast friendship, close enough to tease and joke with each other. The other boy was a year older than Jisung, but he insisted that there was no need to be formal with him—a relief, because Renjun and Jaemin took every opportunity they could to lord their seniority over him. Setting aside the awkwardness of their first meeting, he’d gotten comfortable with Jeno in a short period of time, something that made his aforementioned friends raise their eyebrows in what could have been surprise but was probably insinuating something else. 

Whatever. Jeno was nice, and easy to talk to, and had a really pretty smile. At least Jisung was self-aware enough to _realise_ he had a crush—which was more than anything Renjun could say. 

In the middle of all his internal musing and shitting on Renjun, Jisung didn’t even notice the other boy creeping up on him from behind. A finger reached out to poke him in the stomach and Jisung immediately yelped, ready to get out his wand and hex the fuck out of whoever it was—melting immediately when he realised it was just Jeno. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” Jisung whined, taking his hand away from where it had been hovering over his pocket and reaching out to smack Jeno on the head instead. 

Jeno only giggled in response, deftly ducking under his arm and emerging victoriously un-smacked in front of Jisung. His proud smile was a little too adorable for Jisung to hit him again, so he let his hand hang by his side. 

“What are your thoughts on Hippogriffs?” Jeno asked him, as the two of them walked the short distance that led to inside the stables. 

“I don’t have any,” Jisung replied, being difficult just because he could. “I don’t think about Hippogriffs.” 

“Not even a _single_ thought? Not even a teeny tiny thought for only the most majestic creature that roams both land and sky?” 

Jisung rolled his eyes. “You’re a nerd.” 

“What has the world come to,” Jeno sighed, wiping at his forehead in mock disappointment. “What happened to the cute and shy little Jisung who used to blush at every word I said?” 

“There was never a Jisung like that!” he insisted, trying not to draw attention to the fact that his ears had already started turning red. _Goddamnit, blood vessels._

He failed, though, if the tiny smirk that graced Jeno’s features proved anything. Luckily for Jisung, they’d already reached the first stable by then and Jeno was too distracted by the gigantic creature in front of them to further comment on the “cute and shy little Jisung”. 

Hogwarts’ Hippogriff stables were a relatively new installment, only formally set up sometime during the previous year after multiple requests from Taeyong. It was hard, keeping them tamed, but animals seemed to work differently when they were around Taeyong—almost like magic. (It was highly likely that there _was_ magic at play, actually. Jisung had never seen anyone with as much raw magical talent as his teacher.) 

Jeno, however, had his own tricks up his sleeve when it came to animals. He opened up the door to the stable, allowing the hippogriff to walk out in all its glory, and leaving a very wide-eyed Jisung next to him. 

Jisung had seen Hippogriffs before, of course, but only in pictures—and those pictures didn’t do the slightest bit of justice to their reality. Jeno was right: the creature in front of him could only be described as majestic, what with its gray feathers and hooked beak and the slight sheen to its wings. Jisung could practically _feel_ the cold sweat threatening to trickle down his back. He was terrible enough with animals as it was, what the hell was he supposed to do in front of such a regal one?

Jeno, however, didn’t share any of his qualms. He didn’t really do anything special when approaching the Hippogriff in front of him, just maintained eye contact for what felt like hours on end—or maybe Jisung was just an impatient person. Eventually, Jeno sunk into a deep bow in front of the creature, one that was returned to him without any haste. 

As if sensing that Jisung was starting to get restless, Jeno turned to him with his trademark smile. 

“Meet Stormquill,” Jeno announced, sounding proud of himself as he presented the creature. One of his hands had wound itself into the hippogriff’s plumes, right behind its neck, curling fingers into what looked like painfully sharp feathers.

Jisung, however, was a bit more wary. He eyed Stormquill from a relatively safe distance away, grateful that he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of the stare exchanged with Jeno earlier. “His name’s a bit on the nose, no?” 

Stormquill snorted, as if sensing that Jisung was talking shit (he wasn’t!). Jeno ran a soothing stroke across the feathers once again, before correcting Jisung with, “She’s a girl. Also, all hippogriffs are named like that, so don’t be mean!” 

Huh. Jisung surveyed Stormquill again, eyes taking on a new lens once he’d heard what Jeno had to say about her. “How do you know if a hippogriff is a—?” 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” 

The way Jeno’s eyes immediately turned round was almost comical, and Jisung resisted the urge to laugh at him. (He had a feeling that Stormquill would give him hell for it if he did.) Instead he decided to voice one of his many other questions, starting with, “How do you even know her, anyway?” 

“Met her when she first came to Hogwarts,” replied Jeno, eyes softening as he looked over at Stormquill once again. The hippogriff seemed to nuzzle her head into Jeno’s hands, snorting once again. Jisung wasn’t sure if she was making fun of him or agreeing with his sentiment, but he could tell that they were important to each other. She was starting to feel less like a “creature” and more like a friend of Jeno’s. 

“Come on, it’s time you got to know her, too!” 

Jisung barely registered his words, too focused on Jeno’s free arm gently tugging on his own in an attempt to bring him forward. (He could practically _hear_ Renjun’s voice calling him a “fucking loser”.) 

He tried to protest, the feeling of unease that he’d felt when he’d first laid eyes on Stormquill returning in full force now that he had no choice but to look at her. Against all common sense, he was scared of her—not scared that she would attack him, but scared that she wouldn’t approve of him. 

Renjun was right, he really was a fucking loser. 

Jeno didn’t budge on his position though, no matter how much Jisung tried to tell him that he was perfectly fine just watching, thank you very much. He’d at least let go of his arm, so Jisung could focus on what he was actually saying. 

“You’re here to learn how to work with animals better,” Jeno pointed out. “How are you supposed to do that if you don’t actually try to work with them?” 

“Mrgghnh,” replied Jisung, just because. It earned him a grin from Jeno, though, so maybe it wasn’t a complete waste of syllables. 

“It’ll be okay, promise. She doesn’t bite.” 

Eyeing those talons, Jisung thought that she could do things _much_ worse than biting, but he stayed silent. Instead, he let Jeno take him by the arm again and carefully instruct him on what to do so that Stormquill wouldn’t gouge his eyes out (paraphrased). 

“Okay, so you’re gonna look at her straight in the eyes,” Jeno directed, removing his hand from Jisung’s and placing it on Stormquill’s back instead. “Don’t back down halfway. Try not to blink, too, she finds it weird when people blink.” 

Jisung thought that she had way too many qualms for what was essentially a furry horse, but he decided to keep his opinions to himself. He focused on Stormquill instead, whose eyes were—you guessed it—a stormy grey, reminiscent of her name. As piercing as her glare was, it didn’t feel too murderous. (Yet.) 

“Bow now,” Jeno whispered. 

So he did—or, well, he tried. If he ended up almost tripping over himself in an attempt to execute the simplest of bows that was _no one’s_ business but his own. Luckily for him, Stormquill didn’t take it as a huge sign of offense, sinking into a bow of her own not much later. 

It was a beautiful sight, a hippogriff bowing. Something about a creature as high-and-mighty as itself brought to its knees by mere respect for another—if Jisung was a poet, he could probably have written pages on that scene alone.

But Jisung wasn’t a poet. Jisung was a loser, and all he could do was focus on how Jeno’s eyes crinkled happily into themselves, and how his smile was worth a hundred times more than some hippogriff’s admiration, and how he’d do anything to see the older boy as happy as that for every single day of his life. 

* * *

" _Ugh,_ " said Chenle emphatically, pushing their chair away from the table to show just how _ugh_ they were feeling. "If I have to hear you talk about Jeno's smile for _one more second_ I am going to murder you in cold blood." 

"I'd like to see you try!" Jisung shot back immediately, eyebrows crossed together in a frown. The first time he met Chenle after a week—oh, the woes of friends in different houses and varied timetables—and they treated him like _this._ "You're legally obligated to listen to me lovemail my crush. It's in your resume as best friend."

"Well, I'd like a fucking refund," Chenle muttered, but they pulled their chair back into place (mainly because the librarian was shooting them a dirty look). "Do you know how weird it is hearing you wax poetic about my Quidditch captain, of all people?" 

"Hey, this is your payback for last year. Those conversations about Jaemin scarred me for _life._ " 

Chenle immediately reddened, and Jisung considered that a conversation won. 

"Shut up," they hissed, jabbing a finger in Jisung's direction. "You said you wouldn't bring that up to anyone!" 

"And I _haven't,_ " Jisung said. "You just need someone to remind you of your terrible taste in guys every once in a while."

Chenle stuck their tongue out at him. Jisung did the same in retaliation. 

" _Anyway,_ " Jisung continued. "Back to my boy troubles."

That earned him an eye roll. "What troubles do you even have with Jeno? He’s so easy to talk to, why don’t you just tell him you like him?” 

Jisung turned to Chenle like they'd grown a third head. _Tell_ Jeno he liked him? Tell _Jeno_ he liked him? Tell Jeno _he_ liked him? Was Chenle fucking insane? 

"I already regret asking," Chenle sighed, as if picking up on the electricity in Jisung's brain currently going haywire, but to no avail. 

"First of all, have you _seen_ him? Jaw and muscles and legs for _days_ ," he started, and he could already feel himself spinning into a rant. "It’s so fucking intimidating at first but that's not even all! He does so much stuff and he's good at everything but he doesn't even show off about it? But he’s still so confident? But not like, in an obnoxious way, he’s always so sweet to everyone, _including_ me, and why would I want to _tell_ him I _like him_ and _ruin_ all of that?”

Somewhere along the way, Chenle’s expression had gone from playfully annoyed to actually soft, and Jisung resisted the urge to throw something at them. 

“You’re really serious about him, huh,” they noted, still with the— _look_ in their eyes. 

“Yes—no—don’t look at me like that!” Jisung whined, making shooing hand gestures in their direction as if that would make them shut up. 

Chenle’s expression went from confused to shit-eating in a matter of seconds, and Jisung regretted saying anything at all. 

“Aww, but _Jisung,_ ” they cooed, complete with sound effects and mocking hand gestures. “You have a _crush._ You’re so _cute_.” 

“Can you go back to being mean to me? This is so much worse.” 

“I could never insult my little Jisungie!” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you—” 

Jisung had just reached across the table, arms outstretched in an attempt to catch Chenle and hopefully flay them alive, when a sudden all-too-familiar voice came from right behind him. 

“Oh, hey guys!” 

The way that Chenle’s grin widened even further told Jisung all that he needed to know before turning around to see none other than the aforementioned Lee Jeno, because fate was a little bitch who loved to play cruel tricks on him. 

Trying to pretend like he hadn’t been halfway through plotting—and almost successfully committing—the murder of his best friend, Jisung jumped back into position on his chair and honest to god ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to be nonchalant. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , how much of their conversation had Jeno heard? (He could feel Chenle resisting the urge to laugh at him from where they were still seated, and tried to console himself by thinking that Jaemin would have been proud of his acting skills.)

“Jeno!” he said—more like squeaked, but that wasn’t the point. “Fancy seeing you here!” 

Why, oh why, did Jisung have to revert into talking like an old English lady whenever he was flustered? Chenle’s barely disguised giggles didn’t help his case, either, and it took everything in Jisung to not flip around and revert back to the chokehold he’d been planning on holding them in. 

“Doing some research for a History of Magic assignment,” replied Jeno, smiling. Of course he was doing fucking schoolwork, because he was fucking perfect. Ugh. “I didn’t expect to run into you here, though. I didn’t even know you knew Chenle!” 

The Chenle in question made a noise that could have been interpreted as a snort, dragging their grin away from Jisung to face Jeno instead. “Oh, how I wish that were true.” 

Jisung reddened, hoping that Jeno wouldn’t take that as an attack on his character—even though Chenle had most definitely meant it in that way. Jeno only laughed, though, and looked like he was about to say something in response before suddenly switching tracks mid-way. 

“Oh, before I forget! I’d been meaning to tell you this before, Chenle, but because of the sudden Hogsmeade trip our practices had to be rescheduled to the weekdays,” he said, once again playing the role of perfect captain. _Ugh._ “You’ll be able to make it to the field this evening, right?” 

Chenle made a face, which was code for _“yes but I’m too lazy to give you a concrete answer so instead I’ll mock you and you can interpret it however you wish”_ . Jeno seemed to take it as the affirmative, and looked ready to move on with whatever he was doing—or he _would_ have, had a certain someone not decided to prolong the conversation further. 

“Say,” started Chenle, and Jisung reminded himself that juvenile sentences for murder in Azkaban were only ten years long. “Are you going with anyone for the Hogsmeade trip?” 

Jeno blinked, and Jisung hated himself for noticing the way his mole crinkled, of all things. “We’re supposed to go with someone?” 

This time, Chenle really did snort. They leaned back into their chair, interlacing their fingers together as if they weren’t perfectly aware of what exactly they were trying to do. “Yeah, you know, like a date.” 

“Oh.” Jeno went quiet for a moment, before returning, “Are you?” 

“Yep,” replied Chenle, popping the p and not elaborating on who exactly this someone was. Jisung sent them a weird look, but was resolutely ignored in favour of Chenle continuing with, “Jisung isn’t, though. Y’know. In case you were wondering.” 

_Hello?!_

All of Jisung’s frantic gestures towards Chenle were left unaddressed by them, and in that moment, Jisung decided that he needed to get a better best friend—one who didn’t _meddle_ in his business. For now, though, Jeno’s little “oh” of surprise caught his attention more than his plans to expand his friendship circle. 

“I can just go with Jisung, then,” said Jeno, cheerfully, and Jisung might have actually passed out for a full second. “If it’s okay with you, that is,” he added. 

Judging by Chenle’s wide eyes, they hadn’t expected their plan to work, either, but they were quicker to recover from it than Jisung. “Yeah, see! Perfect!” 

Both of them turned to face Jisung then, expecting an answer. Chenle was half-glaring-half-screaming-with-their-eyes in a way that he took to mean _“Park Jisung if you fuck this up I will quite literally commit a crime_ , and Jisung swallowed down the _what-the-fuck_ of emotions threatening to bubble up his throat. 

“Yeah,” he croaked out, and when Chenle glared at him again, he repeated, louder, “I mean, yes. I would. Love to go with you to Hogsmeade. Yes,” 

Jeno shot him his million-watt smile, full-on eye crinkle and all that jazz. “It’s a date, then.”

* * *

“I’m _gone,_ ” Jisung groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as he fell back against the chair that had been the chosen victim of his troubles for that evening. “Gone, gone gone and _fucked_.” 

“I mean, I could’ve told you that ages ago," said Renjun off-handedly, eyes still trained on his book. Jisung didn't know what he was reading—the title was written in Ancient Runes, in typical Ravenclaw fashion—but it must have been truly gripping, because Renjun had barely looked up from it ever since Jisung found him lounging around in the Slytherin common room, as per usual. The only surprising thing about the sight was the lack of Jaemin. 

"You don't even know what I'm talking about!" Jisung accused. 

Renjun looked up at him, then, only to give him an eye-roll. What a loving relationship they had. "Is it not about Jeno?" 

Well. "Maybe."

“What did you do this time?” 

“I didn’t do anything! _He_ did!”

That earned him an eyebrow raise, and Renjun finally put his book to the side. “Really, now.” 

“What would you do if I told you that Jeno asked me out on a date,” Jisung said, in the sort of tone that one would use to make a point. 

“I would believe you.” 

“Okay, well, it wasn’t really a _date_ date, but—wait, what?” 

Renjun grinned at him, eyes bright in the way that they tended to get whenever he knew something that the other person didn’t (which was almost always). “It’s not that surprising, is it? Jeno is almost as whipped for you as you are for him.” 

“How do you even—you don’t even _know_ Jeno!” 

“Oh, please,” Renjun scoffed, rolling his eyes. Jisung felt like they would roll out of his skull soon enough if he kept that up. “I’ve seen him around you enough to spot the way his eyes light up even if you do literally nothing. It’s the same way _you_ look whenever you talk about him.” 

Jisung squinted. “Have you been reading those weird romance novels again?”

“No!” Renjun half-yelled, but he did move to cover the title of his runic book (as if Jisung could even understand it in the first place). _Aha,_ so that’s what that was. “I’m being serious. Take it or leave it, bitch.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Jisung, still dismissive. Renjun was way too much of a romantic when it came to things like this, despite how much he liked to pretend otherwise. Besides, if Jeno ever looked like that, it was because he was _nice,_ not because he liked Jisung, or anything. Then again, he _had_ asked him out, so that may have been an indicator—yeah, this train of thought was going to get him absolutely nowhere. 

His off-handed comment didn’t get a response from Renjun, who he looked like he was ready to go back to reading his not-romance novel—and he probably would have, if it hadn’t been for Jisung’s sudden realisation of, “Oh, god.” 

Renjun eyed him, wary. “What.” 

“He asked me out on a _date.”_

“Oh my god, and you accused _me_ of reading weird romance novels?” 

“No, I mea—shut the fuck up!” the last part was directed towards the barely stifled giggles coming from Renjun’s direction right then, and Jisung found himself recounting murder sentences for the second time that day. “I was still reeling on the high of actually having talked to him, the full thing didn’t hit me until now or _oh god what if he’s just one of those freaks who calls regular hang-outs dates_ —”

“Stop,” Renjun said firmly, finally getting his laughter under control and reaching out a hand to rest on Jisung’s shoulder. He hadn’t even realised he’d been vibrating. “You’re overthinking again, it’s really not that deep.” 

“Isn’t it, though?” 

“Listen, it literally does not matter whether or not he thought it was a date or not, because you are going to go there and woo the fuck out of him and he’s going to fall in love with you. And that’s that,” he added, as an afterthought. 

Even though the words were barely anything, they were still enough to touch Jisung’s heart—Renjun had a tendency to be sweet in surprising ways. So of course, the rational thing for Jisung in response to that was, “ _Woo?_ Who the fuck still talks like that?”

And, okay, maybe Jisung deserved the book that was thrown at him for that comment, but it still hurt. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Renjun said, exasperated. 

“I love you?” Jisung offered, and watched as Renjun’s frown melted into the flustered expression he made whenever he encountered unexpected emotion. 

“Hmngh,” he said, followed by, “You’re spending too much time with Jaemin.” 

Oh, that reminded him. “Where is he, anyway?”

Renjun’s face immediately shuttered down on itself, and Jisung winced internally for not having noticed the signs already. He’d known that there was something going on between them for the past few months, but he’d been way too caught up in his own shit to actually reach out—he really needed another trial at this whole good friend thing. 

“I’m not his keeper,” said Renjun, and Jisung could tell that he was trying to keep his tone light on purpose. He got the feeling that the other didn’t really want to talk about it, anyway, so he changed the subject. 

“Dude, what the fuck am I supposed to _wear?!”_

* * *

In the end, picking an outfit was not the biggest of Jisung’s struggles—what _was_ , however, was Jeno’s choice of outfit. 

“I can’t do this,” Jisung whispered, petrified. His eyes were blown wide open, still staring at Jeno from afar ( _like a freak,_ the Renjun in his brain helpfully supplied). “I can’t go over there.” 

Chenle rolled their eyes, giving Jisung an exasperated shove on the back. “Jisung, if you don’t stop being the textbook definition of a gay boy for _one second_ —”

“But his _sweater!_ ” Jisung all but wailed the last word, whisper-shouting in an attempt to still remain quiet. In his defence, it was entirely Jeno’s fault for choosing to wear a _sweater vest,_ of all things. It was further his fault for managing to actually _look good_ in said sweater vest. Who the fuck even wore those anymore? They were impossible to pull off. 

(Jisung wouldn’t mind pulling it off.) 

(This wasn’t an appropriate train of thought for 10:00 in the morning.) 

“Dude, stop being a freak for once in your life and go to where the cute boy is waiting for you. _Please,_ ” Chenle added, when their initial statement didn’t get much of a reaction from Jisung. What was with all his friends and calling him a freak?

Jisung took a deep breath. Maybe he was over-exaggerating the situation, playing up the drama and being a brat like he tended to do, but could you really blame him? It wasn’t every day that he got asked out to Hogsmeade by _Lee Jeno._

Lee Jeno, who was currently standing in front of the main gate and staring at the giant wall clock opposite them with a tiny pout on his face. 

“ _Go,”_ hissed Chenle, and Jisung went. 

He ducked out from behind the pillar where the two of them had been hiding, and Jeno noticed him almost instantly—whether that was a blessing or a curse, he wasn’t quite sure yet. Jisung had the good fortune to be graced with an eye smile mere moments after, and he prayed to all that was holy that he didn’t end up making a fool of himself. 

Maybe he was better off keeping his prayers to himself. 

“Hey, there you are!” 

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Jisung muttered, avoiding his eyes. 

“Nah, you’re good,” Jeno replied, because he was fucking perfect. “I like your scarf. It suits you.” 

Jisung blinked, almost unbelieving. He’d been planning on pulling out the compliment card himself, he hadn’t expected Jeno to go ahead and do it first!

“Thanks,” he said, slowly. “It was a gift from Chenle.” 

“Oh? You guys are pretty close, huh?” 

“They’re my best friend, so,” he replied, if a little awkwardly. Maybe bringing up Chenle hadn’t been the best idea.

Jeno only hummed in response, smiling brightly before tilting his head in the direction of the main gate. “Shall we?” 

Hogsmeade was cold this time of the year— _way_ colder than Jisung had expected it to be, something that was only catching up to him now that he was out in the open with barely any protection but his aforementioned scarf. It wasn't even designed to be worn against the cold! That was the last time he took Jaemin's help when it came to picking out clothes. 

Jeno seemed to pick up on his suffering, though, if the mildly concerned look he sent his way was anything to go by. "You okay? You're shivering like crazy." 

"Winter, am I right," Jisung said weakly, attempting at jazz hands. _Jazz hands._ Jesus. Maybe the cold really was getting to his brain. 

The worried crease didn't leave Jeno's eyebrows, though, and Jisung desperately tried not to reach over and smooth it out. 

"Here," offered the older boy, slipping off his own jacket and consequently causing Jisung's anxiety levels to spike up immediately. "Take mine."

 _Bro, that's a fucking jacket, bro, he's offering you his_ jacket, _bro, this is peak intimacy and you will never experience this again in your entire life—_

Jisung swallowed. "Thanks." 

Before he could delve into another mental spiel in Chenle's voice about how stupid his response was and how he deserved to be put into containment for not knowing how to talk to pretty boys, Jeno reached forward to drape the jacket around his shoulder. The close contact was enough to make Jisung short-circuit, and he stood perfectly still as the other boy carefully arranged the jacket so that it wouldn't fall off. 

"There," said Jeno, finally stepping back as if to admire his handiwork. "All wrapped up." 

_Quick, say something nice in return._

"It's just a jacket, it's really not going to do much against the wind."

_Goddamnit, Jisung._

Lucky for him, Jeno only rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans before gesturing in a _let's keep going_ move. "Maybe I just wanted to play the gentleman, did you ever consider that?" 

"I don't think you've ever been gentle nor a man once in your life," Jisung quipped, stepping on a rock lying in the road on purpose. Ouch. 

"Why lie completely unprovoked?"

"It was very much provoked. The provocation is me having to see your stupid face."

Jeno turned towards him, eyes twinkling. "If you thought my face was this stupid, why'd you say yes to the date?"

"Ugh, shut up," Jisung mumbled, ducking his chin into his scarf so that he could hide the blush threatening to creep up his neck. _Not the date thing again!_ He really needed to find a way to turn this around on Jeno. 

"Where are we going?" he asked instead.

"Three Broomsticks," Jeno replied, cheerfully. Far too cheerful for what was essentially a magic Starbucks. 

Suddenly struck by inspiration and feeling strangely bold enough to act on it, Jisung teased, "What, no Madam Puddifoot's for your _date?_ "

"Oh, come on, Jisung, don't be so crude. Pudifoot's is only reserved for the third date." 

"Implying that there'll be more?" 

"If you'll have me." 

The statement was a little too charged for your regular everyday banter, and Jisung had to force himself to look away lest his expression let something slip. He didn't know how to respond to that. 

"Keep paying and I won't be able to get enough of you." 

Jeno laughed, and the sound eased some of the tension in the air. "So you admit to only keeping me around for money!" 

"I've never denied that fact in my life, actually."

"You joke now, but I'll be the one getting the last laugh after I successfully manage to drag you with me everywhere I go with the promise of Butterbeer," said Jeno, words absent-mindedly winding into a ramble. "Oh, we're here." 

The signature warmth of the inn hit Jisung right in the face as he walked in, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and whatever else it was that made up the holiday season. The air felt almost edible with how rich it was. It was comforting, and a direct contrast to the almost sub-zero temperatures they were facing outside. 

By the time they’d found a table—the inn was extremely busy and Jisung had doubted their chances, Jeno apparently knew one of the servers and managed to score them some seats through the sheer force of his eye smile alone—Jisung had prepared himself for the coming date. He knew that it was bound to take an awkward route and there was nothing that he could do about it; he didn’t for the life of him know what people even did on dates. His last one, if it could even be called that, had been set up by Chenle and was with a girl named Yuna who he’d been too intimidated by to even talk to properly—it was all he could do to hope that his fate with Jeno didn’t end up the same way. 

“So, what are we getting?”

Jisung broke out of his reverie, blinking at Jeno. He was smiling at him from over the menu, and looking far too excited about something as mundane as ordering food. 

“Um,” he started. “Butterbeer?”

Jeno rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. Maybe something a little more solid to go with it?” 

“I’m shit at making decisions, you can pick anything,” he replied, truthfully. Menus stressed him out. He’d much rather stick to a familiar dish, but he hadn’t been to The Three Broomsticks enough to know one of those. 

“Hm,” Jeno said, dragging it out in consideration. “What’s your spice tolerance like?”

“Higher than your average white person, but probably lower than your average Asian’s.”

That got a laugh out of Jeno, who seemed to take it into stride anyway. Jisung tried not to feel too pleased with himself. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

“I have no idea what you’re planning, but I have a feeling I should be terrified.” 

Jeno waved a hand in dismissal. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Rosetta!” 

The last part of his sentence was directed towards the same server that had helped them to their table, who was currently making her way towards them—to take the order, Jisung presumed. 

“What can I get for you lovely boys today?”

Jeno grinned at her. “Could we get one of the Flaming Platters, please? And two Butterbeers.” 

“Of course, princess,” she said, warmly, and Jisung stifled a laugh. When she was gone, he mouthed, _Princess?_

“Hey, don’t be mean,” chided Jeno. “There is nothing gendered about that word used as a term of affection.”

“I was more laughing at the fact that a middle-aged woman called you princess and you let her get away with it, but sure.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s cute.”

Jisung had to look up from where he’d been absent-mindedly playing with his cutlery to check that Jeno was being serious. The twitching smile on his face told him otherwise, but Jisung decided to humour him anyway. “Sure it is. Just think of all the teen boys dying to get a chance to be called a princess by Rosetta from the Three Broomsticks.” 

“You kid, but you underestimate how desperate teen boys can be,” Jeno reminded him.

“Oh, I wasn’t kidding at all.” 

As if on cue, the two of them turned to look at the table next to them, crowded with four of the aforementioned teen boys giggling like little schoolgirls at the sight of Rosetta. Jeno sighed. “Oh, young love.” 

Jisung snorted. “You sound like an old man.”

“Shit, how’d you find out? I thought my disguise was impeccable.” 

“The white hairs gave it away,” Jisung said, as solemnly as he could, bursting into laughter as Jeno immediately reached up to his skull in panic.

“Brat,” he replied, trying to scowl but failing to keep the corners of his lips downturned. “Graying is not a joke!”

“Don’t worry, with a face like yours, no one will care if you have a couple of gray hairs.”

“Aww, you think I’m cute?”

This time it was Jisung’s turn to scowl. “I won’t say it again.”

Jeno let out a sudden laugh, loud enough to attract the attention of their neighbouring table—and, well, maybe Jisung had been wrong. Maybe this date wasn’t going to end up taking the same unfortunate turns as all his other ones. Jeno never ran out of things to talk about, and Jisung was more than happy to indulge in the conversation. Most of their afternoon passed that way; with Jeno bringing up a topic and Jisung going down a million different tangents for each one.

Their flow was only interrupted when Rosetta finally arrived with the “Flaming Platter” that Jeno had mentioned earlier, something that Jisung was already wary of based on name alone. It didn’t look particularly scary, but truly scary things never did—or at least, that was what he told a very amused Jeno. 

Burnt tongues and curse words aimed at ghost chili peppers aside, Jisung _did_ end up having a great time at lunch. Great enough that he didn’t even think twice when Jeno offered to pay for the both of them, accepting it and furiously ignoring the auntie berating him for bad manners in his head. 

As if reading his mind, Jeno smiled at him once he’d handed over the bill. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Jisung could only sigh in response. “All the way in Hogwarts and we still can’t escape the ordeals of Asian customs.” 

“Being a wizard comes second to being Asian,” Jeno replied, so deadpan that Jisung had to look up to make sure that he was joking. (He still wasn’t fully sure.) 

When they finally left the Three Broomsticks and its central heating behind, it was with a sense of mournfulness. Luckily—or perhaps unluckily—the afternoon had left Jisung lacking enough inhibitions that he had no qualms about sticking close to Jeno’s side as they made their way through Hogsmeade. 

“That cold, huh?” Jeno asked, chuckling. 

“Hmm,” was all Jisung could manage. “Did you know your left side is warmer than your right one?”

“I did not, but thank you for the knowledge.” 

“You’re welcome,” Jisung replied, primly. He fell silent for a second, unsure whether or not to say what he was planning on, before deciding fuck it and going ahead with it anyway. “I had fun today.”

“That’s generally what people do on dates, Jisung,” teased Jeno, but he could hear the warmth laced in his tone. “Me too.” 

They were standing face-to-face now—or, rather, nose-to-nose. There was a little nook to the side of the main road that Jeno had somehow pulled them into, without Jisung even realising. Whatever. He wasn’t about to complain. 

Jisung’s brain was swirling with a billion different thoughts, reeling from the sheer rom-com energy that this entire interaction had. He could practically hear Renjun’s voice in his head, telling him to say something, to compliment Jeno or say anything at all that would be acceptable post-date. One thought led to another and he found himself absent-mindedly remembering all the oddly creative insults that Renjun threw around—paired with the increasing urge to say something to break the silence, it wasn’t exactly the best combination. Jisung opened his mouth, and all that came out was, 

“Bitch.”

Jeno’s eyes widened in surprise, and Jisung hastily scrambled to fix his stupid, _stupid,_ slip-up, “I meant—! I didn’t mean that, I meant you, um—you look bitchin’,” he finished, lamely. 

His cheeks were flushed from both deep embarrassment and cold, and there was nothing that Jisung would’ve wanted more in that moment than to fall into a deep hole and never climb back out. (This was all Renjun’s fault.) Still mentally cursing himself for his loose tongue and trying to redeem any shred of dignity he might have left, he tried not to think about how hard Jeno was laughing. It was _distracting._

“I’m sorry! I’m telling you, I meant—”

“Jisung,” interrupted Jeno, gently and with a lot more calm than one would expect of someone who’d been close to stitches mere moments ago. “Shut up.”

And before Jisung could think twice about it, Jeno leaned in to press a quiet kiss against his lips. He barely had any time to understand what was happening; Jeno’s mouth was a lot warmer than Jisung would’ve expected, but the pleasant feeling coursing through his veins was even warmer and it was getting increasingly harder to have any coherent thoughts at all— 

Yeah. Jisung shut up. 

* * *

“I’m sorry, you called him a _what?_ ”

“Shut up! Don’t make me repeat it!”

“You called him a bitch and he _still kissed you?_ ”

“....”

“God. You both deserve each other.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank u to kaia and sam for being the main inspiration behind this and holding my hand til the end <3 and thank u for reading! hope u liked it, tell me ur thoughts in the comments :] you can also find me on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/transhaech)
> 
> while you're here, remember to [support and uplift black voices](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/), and please donate to the [lebanese red cross](https://www.supportlrc.app/donate/donate_guest.html) if you are able!


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